Like The Opening Credits To A B-Grade Horror Turned Romance
by Fourth Lumbar Down
Summary: Okay, so running around the woods at night looking for your druggie sister isn't the best idea, but Matt had been going grey with worry, and she really wanted to sleep without listening to him pace. She hadn't expected to be attacked, though she should have, and she really hadn't expected it to be by Damon Salvatore. Wonders will never cease. Canon Divergence, Damon/OC, WIP.
1. Chapter 1

What if it wasn't Vicki that Damon drained when he got out of the cell? What if it was her sister that had been stumbling through the woods looking for her? How different would things be? Very. Hopefully. Damon/OFC (Clairissa Donovan)

* * *

Clairissa grunted, stumbling over what seemed like the hundredth upturned root. She was going to kill Vicki for this, and then Matt would kill _her _for stumbling around in the woods like the beginning of a B-Grade horror film. In the end, Matt would be the lone survivor that would carry on her legacy. "I am not the opening credits to a horror film. I am not going to be brutally mutilated my Michael Myers," although, granted, she had had some sort of sick crush on Michael Myers when she was younger. She needed therapy. Lots and lots of therapy.

Her therapist would blame it on her mother abandoning them. It always came back to childhood abandonment, right? Some sort of childhood trauma.

"I will find Vicki with her druggy friends, and I will slap the shit outta her, and drag her home by her natty hair. And then, when Matt is done mother henning us, he will calmly bash my head against the wall in the hopes that it makes me smarter," she told herself. She always rambled when she was nervous, even if it meant she had to talk to herself. she just had to _hear _something that wasn't the deafening sound of crickets chirping. "It won't make me smarter," she continued, a shiver running up her spin, "But it will make him feel better, and thats all that matters."

"Anyone ever tell you that you talk too much?"

Clairissa screamed, spinning wildly to catch sight of whoever had spooked her, and landing flat on her ass when she tripped over another tree root. "Oh, God," she moaned, "I _am _the opening credits to a B-Grade horror film," because that _would _be how her life ended. '_Herein lays Clairissa Jane Donovan, Death by serial killer via tree root,' _would be her epitaph.

It would be an epic fail, carved into stone until it crumbled away in the wind.

"Not just a horror film," the voice called out cheerfully, echoing around her, "But a _supernatural _B-Grade horror film. Congrats, babe. Normally the first to die always has the greatest ass."

And then everything went black.

* * *

"I can't believe you, Damon," a voice snapped, different than the one she had last heard, "Not _only _did you kill a group of kids in the woods, but you just _had _to take it one step further, didn't you? You just _had _to turn her."

"Oh, get over it, Stefan," this voice she remembered, a smug baritone that, had she heard it anywhere else, might have been attractive, "You should be _happy. _This is your chance to atone for your sins, blah blah blah. Whatever. Look, if you want, I can just kill her. Lock her up in a cell so she doesn't feed. Done," she could practically hear the careless shrug that came with the last word.

"Don't listen to the fucker," she mumbled, cradling her pounding head. _God, _did she have a concussion? Her gums hurt. Was she on drugs? Had this turned into a torture horror film? Was this her real life version of the Collector?

"Thats offensive," the smug voice remarked, sounding particularly amused instead of annoyed.

"So is your face," she snapped back, peeking open an eye only to snap it back closed with a hiss. It was too bright, the sunlight hurt.

"I assure you, my face is nothing short of aesthetic perfection."

"Not now, Damon," Stefan, isn't that what the smug bastard had called him?, sighed, "Here, I'm going to put these sunglasses on you, so the light doesn't hurt so much, okay?" despite the fact that it sounded like he was asking, a pair of glasses were being slipped onto her face before he finished talking. Slowly, Clairissa opened her eyes, letting out a silent breath of relief when the sunlight didn't start an immediate drum party behind her blue eyes.

"Where am I?" she asked, slowly sitting up in bed. When had she been put in a bed? She had been in the woods. Please, God, don't let this be Heaven. Or Hell. Please don't let her be stuck with the asshole who killed her for eternity. She didn't deserve it. She was still a virgin! A little fooling around with a football player during Homecoming didn't count, right? She was in Hell.

"The Salvatore Boarding House," Stefan told her kindly. Clairissa blinked, getting a good look at the face before her. Yeah, that was Stefan Salvatore, alright. She turned, eyeing the figure standing just at the foot of the bed, a tumbler filled with amber liquid in his hand.

"Aren't you the guy who dated Caroline Forbes?" she asked suspiciously. Squinting at him like that would answer her question. She was pretty sure he was, she had heard Caroline talking to Tiki about his "_OMG, so pretty eyes, like, seriously, I could die looking at them" _blue eyes, and this guy had some nice peepers.

"I wouldn't call it dating," he waved his hand lazily, shrugging his shoulders, "I needed something and she was the easiest way to get it," he told her blithely, like he _wasn't _a raging dickhead for using some high school girl.

"You should have a doctor check down there," she told him with mock kindness, motioning to his lower area, "Just to make sure everything is in working order," Caroline was a sweet girl, if it a bit vapid, but she had no qualms about sleeping with a guy.

"Your worry is touching, really, but I can assure you, I work perfectly fine down there," he told her, flashing the smuggest grin to ever smug.

"Not according to her," Clairissa lied easily, smiling sweetly. He shot her a look, unimpressed but amused, like she was a little girl trying to play with the big boys. _Just you wait, pretty boy, _she thought viciously, _you won't look half as good when I put Nair in your shampoo. _

"It's good that the two of you are getting along, Damon," Stefan said, drawing the attention back to himself. Wow, Clairissa has forgotten he was there. Was short term memory loss a side effect of having a concussion? "She _is _your responsibility."

"Um, no. I don't have the time _or _the patience to be dealing with a newly turned vampire," Damon rebuffed.

What.

_What? _

"You turned me into a vampire," she stated, deadpan, "And now you're too much of a chicken shit to deal with it?"

"Hey," Damon snapped, sounding ruffled for the first time, "One, you haven't turned yet. You still need to drink _human," _he shot a condescending and smug look at Stefan, "Blood before tonight to complete the process. And two, I am not a chicken shit. I just have better things to do, so ease up on the name calling, 'kay, princess?"

"One," she repeated snappily, holding up her index finger to emphasize, "Don't call me 'princess', 'kay, chicken shit? Two," she held up a second finger, "Tthis is completely your fault, and instead of taking responsibility like a real man, you've decided to let me roam free like we're in the fields of Africa," Stefan snorted, sending her a small smile. Clairissa knew how to have a bitch fight. She could slap Vicki down with a few words like a boss.

"Stefan would take care of you," Damon pointed out, completely ignoring everything else.

"Wow, so because you can't grow a pair and deal with the pitfalls of being an irresponsible ass, you're making your brother deal with it?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Damon shrugged, unrepentant.

"No wonder you had to go for a high school girl," she told him dryly, "_No,"_ she corrected, "This is why you had to go for Caroline; she was the only one shallow enough to put up with you."

"Do you seriously want my help that bad?" he asked, looking at her curiously.

"No," she told him honestly, "But I do want you to man up that bad, and if I have to be the poor, newly turned vampire that puts up with your idiocy so it happens, then so be it," oh, God, she was a vampire. _Her life. _

Why.

What had she done to deserve this?

"Unless you think you _can't _teach me properly," she mused, turning to look at Stefan, who had an amused countenance, "And think your brother can do a better job than you …"

"I know what you're doing," Damon pointed at her, narrowing his blue eyes in suspicion.

"And yet, it'll still work, won't it?" she asked victoriously. Matt and Tyler were the same way. Say one of them could do something better than the other, and it was game on. It was how she got so good at _Call of Duty. _

"Damn you," Damon grinned, "Damn you to Hell for using my manly ego against me. Fine. You are now my Padawan."

"I'm stuck with you," she told him, "I think I'm already in Hell."

"Don't worry," Stefan told her softly, patting her knee, "If you ever have any questions you don't want to ask him, I'm more than happy to help you in anyway I can," he sounded guilty. What, did he think it was his fault that his brother was an asshole?

It was possible, she supposed. It's not like she knew their history, and considering they were freaking _vampires, _their history could be very long and daunting.

More than likely, Damon was just a raging dickhead.

A raging dickhead that was now her Yoda to the vampire ways.

Wonderful.

"I'm hungry."

* * *

H'okay, so there is chapter one. Its a WIP, so I mean ... basically all my stories, are, really. Anyways, I think I'm up to chapter three, atm. Whatevs. Comments, questions, corrections, are all welcome. :)


	2. Chapter 2

"The first thing you need to know is that caffeine, food, and alcohol are now your bestfiends, because they'll help keep your besties alive," Damon told her, placing a bottle of Bourbon, a mug of coffee, and a chocolate bar in front of her, waiting patiently for her to choose. She grabbed the coffee and chocolate, getting an approving nod for her efforts.

"Good girl. Alcohol is good, but only if you know how to hold your liquor,and you don't look like the type," wrong, you smug bastard. She could drink Tyler and Matt under the table.

"What type do I look like?" she asked, curiously, sipping at the heavenly coffee. It tasted so good, but it so wasn't what she wanted.

"You're a Barbie," he told her simply, giving an unrepentant shrug, "You probably do your homework right after school, cook dinner for your brother - Matt, wasn't it? and lets not forget Vicki - and then you go to bed. Am I right?"

"No. I am so not a Barbie, thank you -"

"You're right, Barbie's have bigger boobs, don't they?" he questioned, tilting his head to the side with mock curiosity, eye glued to her, admittedly not the largest, breasts.

"You have more dick in your personality than you do in your pants, I hope you realize that," she drawled, amused with his antics. She shouldn't be, she should probably be pissed, but it had been a long time since she'd been able to act like a proper bitch to anyone. And she _never _got any male attention, because Tyler had staked some sort of man protector claim on her virtue, and any guy worth looking at treated her like a Disney princess because of it.

Even if the attention Damon was giving her was bad, it was still there.

She was pathetic.

"That hurts," Damon placed a hand over his heart, face scrunched up in mock agony, "That hurts me deep."

"What can I say," she shrugged, "I'm good like that."

"I like you," Damon said suddenly, bracing his arms on the table, "You're funny. Much better company than Saint Stefan," he nodded seriously.

"Speaking of whom, where is he with my blood?"

Damon waved a hand, careless, "Who knows. Probably stopped for some food in the forest, the little bunny muncher."

"Oh, God," she breathed in dawning horror, "He's Edward Cullen, isn't he? And he wasn't me to be his Alice."

Damon snorted, "Not his Bella?"

"No, no. Elena is his Bella, right? They're dating, but he doesn't want to doom her to an eternity by his side, right? Because she's better than that, and she doesn't deserve to spend lifetimes growing with him. She deserves to spend one lifetime with him, withering and sagging with each passing day," she rambled. "I bet he spends his free time reading Shakespeare and idly musing about Machiavellian ideology."

"Got it in one," Damon snarked, winking at her.

"I'm back, so the two of you can stop gossiping about me," Stefan pointed out, suddenly in the room when just a second ago he wasn't.

"That is awesome," she said seriously, "One of you bitches has to teach me how to do that."

"That and so much more," Damon cooed.

"There's a cooler of blood in the kitchen," Stefan said, valiantly ignoring them. He was probably smarter than most, "I can get more when you start running low, but that should be enough get you through this week."

"Thank you," she said seriously, giving him a soft smile which he returned. "When can I have my phone?"

"Here," Damon tossed the Android onto the table. Clairissa squealed, snatching it with quick fingers.

"Oh, my poor baby, what did that mean man do to you? It's okay, mommy is here now, mommy has you," she cooed, cradling the cell phone to her chest.

"I sat on him," Damon told her viciously, "I sat on him and I wouldn't get up."

She gasped in horror, shrinking back into her chair. "What kind of monster are you?"

"The best kind, baby," he winked, taking a sip from his ever present tumbler of Bourbon.

"Demon," she hissed, scrolling through her missed calls. _Twenty from Matt, Five from Tyler, and One from Elena? _"Why would Elena call me?" she wondered out loud, switching over to her text messages.

_Matty-Poo: C, plz call me. I'm worried bout u. were r u?_

_Matty-Poo: srsly, c. call me. u know i can't sleep if u rnt home. _

_Tyler Baby;) : where the hell r u? Matts been goin crazy. call him. or me. just. call someone, ok?_

_Matty-Poo: i called the sheriff. she's putting out a search party. plz be ok. i love u. _

_Matty-Poo: r u w/ vicki? i can't get ahold of her either. plz be ok, clairebear. _

"I hope you don't mind that I told her," Stefan said, jerking her away from her text. "I figured you might need a girl to talk to. Is that okay?"

"No, yeah. It's fine," she murmured, distractedly, dialling Matt's number.

"Who are you calling?" Damon demanded, suddenly up in her space.

"My broth -"

"_Claire? Oh, my God, Claire, are you okay? Jesus Christ, I've been so worried about you. I expect this from Vicki, but not from you," _Matt's voice cracked at the end, and it wasn't from static. Clairissa felt her heart clench.

She had done that. _She _had made him worried.

"I'm so sorry, Matt. I didn't mean to," she whispered, fighting back tears.

"_Just tell me where you are, okay? Come home."_

"I can't," she shook her head even though he couldn't see her. Damon and Stefan were watching her intently, Stefan with worry and Damon with stilted curiosity.

"_Why not?"_

Because I've been turned into a vampire and I don't want to eat you. Because that would go over well. She sighed, running a hand through her hair and tugging on the ends. "I've been doing drugs," she blurted out. It was a bald faced lie, because she would never do drugs; Matt could barely handle Vicki doing them, let alone her.

"_What?"_

"I know, I know. It's so stupid, I realize that now. I'm - I'm getting better, I'm getting help. But I need to stay here, so I can get clean," Stefan gave her a wane, encouraging smile. "I'll try and call you every day, I promise. I won't be going to school, though. Do you think you can talk to the principal, see if I can have my assignments sent to me?"

Damon snorted, rolling his eyes, and muttered "_Barbie" _into his drink. Claire stuck her tongue out at him, not caring how immature it made her look.

"_Yeah, of course. Anything for you, C," _Matt paused, and she could hear a deeper voice in the background. Tyler, probably. "_Why didn't you come to me about this?"_

"I want to do this on my own," she told him firmly, "I got myself into this, it's my responsibility."

"_You know I'm here for you."_

"I know," she nodded, again, not caring that he couldn't see, "But I gotta go, okay? I love you. Tell Ty I love him, too."

"_Yeah, I will. Love you, too."_

"Tyler your boyfriend?" Damon asked after she'd hung up, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

"No need to get jealous, Damon," she cooed, "I would never date Tyler, mostly because he's screwing Vicki."

"Good reason," he conceded. "Now, lets go get you some blood," he stood, and then he was gone.

"Someone needs to teach me that, pronto," she complained, jumping when Damon reappeared in front of her with a smirk. He held out a blood bag with a straw sticking out of it.

Clean eating, everyone. Just because you're the living dead doesn't mean you should forget your manners.

She snatched the bag from him, ignoring his wounded look. She had the straw in her mouth in seconds, moaning. "Holy shit, this is amazing," she breathed, sucking hard on the straw as sweet yet coppery blood filled her mouth.

"Go slow," Damon pulled the straw out of her mouth with a stern look that she returned with a glare, "It's all about controlling the hunger. You're better than your urges. Take small sips," he commanded, releasing the straw. Clairissa found herself following his order, drinking the blood with slow, methodical pulls.

"Good girl," he cooed. She kicked her foot out, hoping to catch him in the shin, but he dodge her bare foot nimbly.

"Almost," he condescended, "But not quite. We'll work on the reflexes tomorrow."

* * *

Kay-kay. There's the second chapter, my darlings. Comments, questions, correction - feel free to ask or tell. And again, this is a WIP, and I only have one other chapter correctly written.

Also, as for the name, I know it generally isn't spelled "Clairissa", nut that's how I prefer it. When I see "Clarissa", I cant help but say it with some sort of posh accent and it comes out like "Clah+R+issa" as compared to "Clair+issa". Just putting it out there.


End file.
